


Sunbirds in Mud Ponds

by Dev14



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Ash Whump, AshEiji will be happy, Canon-Typical Violence, Derogatory Language, Dino Golzine is a BASTARD, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Dubious Consent, Eiji Whump, Eventually mayhaps, Fluff, I love fluff don't worry, I swear it's unintentional, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Please Don't Kill Me, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Secret Identity, The title 'acronymized' is SIMP, Trauma, What Have I Done, Yakuza, still funny and catchy so i'm keeping it lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dev14/pseuds/Dev14
Summary: “It seems that he is not a simple Japanese bobtail, after all,” the old mafia said with barely contained giddiness as he reveled in Ash’s shellshocked form, “I suppose there are things that he kept even from you.”Those words stabbed into the weakest point of his heart and he let out a shuddering breath, unable to respond properly. The past few minutes like a surreal nightmare. He was half-tempted to pinch his arm, to wake up and see Eiji, his Eiji. Not the...Eiji followed a distracted Ash into Warehouse 12 that fateful night, and Golzine had a plan for both of them.But there was something off about Eiji. What could the seemingly naïve Japanese be hiding?**AUTHOR UPDATE: This story is not abandoned, promise 🥺 Author is just a very sporadic person, let’s hope she got her inspo back for the next update!
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 64
Kudos: 181





	1. Camouflage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, the first chapter starts from the day Blanca shot Eiji’s arm and Ash had to negotiate with Yut-Lung and Golzine in the Banana Fish anime episode 18: Islands in the Streams. And then the fic itself will diverge from that.

The lavish apartment room was dim, the curtains having been drawn to a close last night, showing tiny rays of light from the sun that was steadily rising up upon New York’s cityscape horizon. The sounds from the bustling streets, honking cars, and pedestrians walking the sidewalk almost nondescript on the top floor of the apartment building, lending a comfortable ambiance rather than the noise pollution they usually were.

The blond teen shifted his legs under the comforter, his toes curling around the cool linens of the bedsheet, stifling a yawn as he gazed unblinkingly at the high ceiling. Mornings like this seemed like a dream to him. For once in his life, he wasn’t running, chasing, and constantly on guard for his and his friends’ safety.

Ash Lynx’s life was far from perfect. He would bet the millions of dollars he stole from Dino Golzine’s filthy pockets that his life was the furthest away from the idea of ‘perfection’, perhaps even down the filthiest corner of ‘terrible’. He had come to terms to that, and he had used whatever was available at his disposal to get ahead, to survive. He wasn’t opposed to using underhanded tricks and his own body to his advantage, the minds of the filthy men who used him were filled with nothing but lust with just a hint of pale, exposed skin and a few simple words of enticement. It didn’t take long for them to succumb, to be made vulnerable as they used him for their pleasure—and then he would strike.

He would make it slow and painful for those he hated, for those who held personal _attachments_ to him. But sometimes he wasn’t so lucky, and precious time made the kill mercifully quick. Their blood would be spilled from their body, not unlike their revolting seed on his skin—another night of harsh scrubbing in the shower would be of essence—and he would walk away with anything he set his eyes on—information, mostly, that he could use to topple over even the most powerful people. And one, in particular, that he vowed would suffer the seventh level of Hell with no escape to the sweet mercy of Death.

His body was alluring, and his mind was that of a trained killer, easily ensnaring men to his traps. Who knew that the closest thing to a real-life _femme fatale_ was an 18-years-old boy.

But he needn’t be proud. That was just how he was trained by _Papa_.

He turned his head when he heard a soft groan coming from the bed adjacent to his, its comforter rustling as the boy— _older_ than him, he often thought in wonder—tucked underneath curled to his side, spilling the down-filled linen to the floor. It was rare for the Japanese to still be asleep—he glanced at his phone, 9.00 AM—when he usually woke up before Ash, already bustling down the kitchen and preparing breakfast for the both of them.

Tentatively, the blond teen unfurled his body from its comfortable position and stood up from the mattress, uncaring for the bedding he carelessly dropped to the floor. The padding of his bare feet was almost inaudible, a habit from his training with Blanca—a professional killer, he curled his lips in a strange combination of fondness and distaste—and he knelt down beside Eiji’s bed, studying the peaceful expression in the Japanese’s face. it was a rare opportunity for him to be able to look at his friend’s sleeping face without being called out, though he suspected Eiji wouldn’t even mind—after several minutes of teasing, perhaps.

Ash rested his face on his folded arms by the bedside, his jade orbs partially curtained by the golden tresses of his hair. He watched the Japanese who mumbled in his sleep, burrowing his face to the pillow and clutching at the billowy material as a child would. The soft black hair splayed on the white cover of the pillow, flopping down the boy’s youthful face. An angel.

Eiji was different, he mused. Eiji was pure. Eiji was innocent. Naïve. Eiji was everything that he was not, everything that he could never be and _more_. He was all that was right in the world, the beacon of hope in Ash’s wretched life. The ray of light at the end of the bleak tunnel that went on and on and _on_...

Yet Eiji was also a speck of white chalk on a blackboard—white and pure and _fragile_ , easily erased with a flick of a finger. The thought produced a grim line on Ash’s lips. Ash’s worst fear was not to have the white erased, no, far from such a merciful end—death was always merciful in his world—but it was to have it tainted in _red_ blood. Crusted over and dried, stubbornly insistent in its stain; and the only way to make the red go was to slowly chip it away until there was nothing left but faded marks of nails scratching on the surface of the board.

His jaws hurt and he belatedly took note that he had been clenching them hard. His fingers ached and he looked down to see nail marks on his palms, red and deeply indented. His eyes burnt and it took him a moment to know that he was about to cry over something that had not even happened yet. Something that hadn’t happened to _someone else_.

It was scary how much he cared for the Japanese, scary how he put the boy above everything else in his life, scary how he knew he would do _anything_ to keep him safe. Logic and rationale told him that it was because Eiji was something that he never realized he could have. A sense of normalcy, someone from the ordinary world on the opposite side of his dark one. He clung to the idea of Eiji—the idea of a normal life.

Hope.

But somehow it didn’t quite capture it. There was something more. About Eiji. About him. About the two of them, together. He was simply too afraid to put a name to it. It wasn’t the right time. Then again, there never was _time_. Especially for someone like him, to be thinking about such things.

Foolish, to hope for a life that he could never have.

Big, brown orbs opened slowly, and Ash only noticed that he had such long lashes. He was mesmerized, falling into a depth that he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Eiji’s lips curled up, his expression lax from the sleep that still lingered. For a moment he thought that having _hope_ , even a fraction of it, wasn’t so far-fetched, after all.

Eiji mumbled unaware of Ash’s turbulent thoughts, “you’re watchin’ me sleep. That’s either cute, or creepy.”

A smile threatened to burst from his lips.

“I’m betting on cute.”

“Mm, creepy.”

Ash puffed out a laugh without meaning to, and stood up from his kneeling position, sitting on the edge of the bed. Eiji was still smiling lazily, his brain still not connecting completely to the rest of his body to do more. Ash could only be so relaxed with him. _Unguarded_.

“I’m hungry.”

“Go eat, then.”

“You haven’t made breakfast.”

A frown, then, “spoiled brat.”

“Lazy old-timer.”

Eiji smacked the unused pillow next to him right to Ash’s face, delighting in the red-nosed blond who glared down petulantly. He scrambled to his feet when the younger teen tried to retaliate, laughing at the childish complaints thrown his way as he padded down to the kitchen in his pajamas. _Vulnerable_.

“I’ll cook up something, so you go and shower,” the Japanese called, already walking down to the direction of the kitchen door, “we all know beauty queens take the longest.” A pillow was thrown his way just in time he was closing the door to the kitchen. _Juvenile._

“Pick that up,” his muffled voice yelled from the other side, amusement riddling his soft, morning voice, so unlike Ash’s own thick and sleep-laden one. _Exposed._

A dream, indeed, one he wished he never had to wake up from.

.

_'His target is your friend. Okumura Eiji.'_

_'Negotiations will be tomorrow night at 9. Pier 8, Warehouse 12.'_

.

Alas.  
  


* * *

  
He knew more than anyone, the two sides of a coin. The coin was placed on the ground, one side was facing up towards the sky, constantly shined by the sunlight and weathered with love; while the other pressed on to the soil, soaking up the cold dirt and grime and knowing nothing of the light and warmth for years and years.

He lived under that side of the coin; the dark, filthy side despite the luxury thrown all around him by anyone who wished to use him. Ash could see glimpses of the other side sometimes, the bright light at the edge of the coin, whenever he was around his friends—Shorter, _no more_. And for a moment, Eiji—who lived on the other side, kissed by the sun and everything bright—with all his naïve tenacity pulled him up to the light. To see what was beyond the dark.

It was beautiful and so terribly warm. It was blinding.

It made him vulnerable.

No wonder he was so easily dragged back down.

Yut-Lung thought that Ash wouldn’t do it. He thought that Ash wouldn’t do just about anything to make sure Eiji was safe from all harm, to keep him in the light as Ash let himself be captured by the dark.

Yut-Lung thought that Ash was the same creature of darkness with the same mold as himself.

Ash pulled the trigger of the pistol he pushed against his head before the Chinese could even blink.

There was no deafening sound of a gunshot, and Ash would have realized that it was empty if not for the last person he wished to see at that moment entered the gloomy scene.

“Ash, no!”

Ash’s world shattered as he watched his dearest friend entered the warehouse. Everything went in slow motion when the two thugs grabbed the Japanese’s struggling body and kept it in place with unnecessary force. He could hear Yut-Lung’s trembling chuckle and his heart crumbled.

Why did Eiji follow him?

He clenched his fists until his palms bled, hating himself.

Why didn’t Ash _notice_?

“ _EIJI_ —!” He screamed hoarsely, unable to make a move as a gun— _loaded_ this time, he knew—was pressed against the Japanese’s throat, the clicked sound of the hammer being pushed down was louder than any gunshot he ever heard in his life, and it was enough to render him frozen.

“One wrong move from you and your little cat’s brain will spatter on the ground,” Golzine’s disgusting voice pierced Ash’s numb brain and the blond turned to face the Corsican Mafia boss. Blanca stood behind him with an unreadable smile, his posture was lax though his dark eyes spoke otherwise. Betrayal roared in Ash’s heart for a split second, but he was torn to a more pressing matter that he wished he would never have to deal with again.

“Ash,” Eiji whispered, his hands clawing against the arm that wounded around his chest. His eyes were wide, but not in fear for his life. They were clear and unheeding of the pistol pressing a bruise on his throat, instead they zoomed in on Ash’s frozen form, taking in his condition, both worry and regret evident in the dark orbs.

“It seems that there will be a change of plan,” Blanca remarked, shifting on one foot while throwing Ash a lazy smirk belying his complex mind.

Yut-Lung bristled. “We can just kill that useless Japanese—”

“No!”

“—so to break the wildcat’s spirit.”

Golzine hummed, motioning for his men to bring Eiji close. Ash wanted nothing but to run there and save his friend, but the trigger of the pistol on Eiji’s neck would be faster than his quickest reflexes.

“Golzine you bastard!” he shouted helplessly, “don’t you dare lay a finger on him!”

Golzine threw a side along glance at the blond. He knew there was nothing Ash could do to stop him, lest he wished to see the Japanese with a hole through his face.

“Please,” Ash pleaded, dropping down to his knees, his voice small as he _begged_ , “please don’t hurt him.”

The mafia boss sneered at the pathetic display his most prized possession had become, pulling on Eiji’s chin so he was forced to face him. There was a fire in his dark eyes, glimmering embers behind the captivating large orbs that were glaring at him as if somehow, at that moment, looks could kill.

“That is quite unnecessary, Mr. Lee Yut-Lung,” the old man said to Yut-Lung’s previous suggestion, motioning for Blanca to restrain Ash.

“We will take them both.”

Yut-Lung looked at Golzine in rage and disbelief. They were just going to abandon the plan he made? Just like that?

“What about the evidence—”

“I assure you,” Dino cut the irritating Chinese, “we will still be following the plan. The lynx would simply have, ah, a more pressing incentive to follow through.”

Yut-Lung had no power over that. He would have to comply if he wished to keep his image of partnership with the other mafia boss. He put on a snake smile, his hands resting behind his back and clenching together in a morbid enactment of him strangling the old bastard until his face turned purple. _If only_ , he sneered internally, his ire rising by the second as he watched the weak, pathetic excuse of a human being that _dared_ to encroach on Ash Lynx’s life, knowing that the lucky scum had escaped death yet again. Cockroaches were the hardest to kill, indeed.

Eiji was manhandled outside, unconscious from a quick blow delivered to the back of his head. Ash screamed and shouted all the while, struggling from Blanca’s more powerful frame as the Japanese’s unconscious body was dragged to Papa Dino’s waiting cars.

“Any wrong move and he will suffer more than Wong,” Golzine vowed darkly, and that was enough to subdue Ash Lynx’s fiery struggles. How the mighty mountain cat had fallen for a puny little rabbit, the old mafia lamented.

Ash was given the condition to ensure Eiji’s safety—to gather all the information on banana fish that he leaked to the journalist, Max Lobo, and to bring Alexis Dawson with him. All the hours and days he spent on ends to prove the Corsican Mafia and the US Government involvement in the illegal drug, his _years_ of trying to find evidence that would ruin Golzine would be all made to waste, and the Corsican boss would walk away with everything and no stain to his name. He would lose his chance for revenge, and instead be made into the lowest of Golzine’s prostitutes, a punishment for all the trouble Ash had caused—all to make sure that Eiji would be freed and unharmed. He would lose everything to bargain for one life.

He agreed without even a flash of a second thought. Yut-Lung trembled with rage at the ease and conviction in Ash’s acceptance, but both he and Blanca, and Golzine himself knew this was the outcome, despite not fully understanding of the _why_. If Eiji was there he would be horrified.

This was Ash Lynx’s life, after all. He was foolish to hope for anything more.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked once there was only him and Blanca in the dark warehouse, the older man paused in his steps as he was walking out to the exit. _Why are you still helping Golzine with his dirty work?_

_Why haven’t you escaped this hell despite having the means to do so?_

Blanca smiled, glad that Ash couldn’t see the melancholy in his eyes, the worry that was always there underneath the darkness that lied on top of both their hearts.

“Who knows,” he said instead, walking away.

Ash was left alone. His deadline to retrieve the data was 24 hours, with Eiji as Golzine’s bargaining chip.  
  


* * *

  
He did it within four.

But Eiji was nowhere to be found when he handed the brown folder to Blanca, and Dawson was hauled off by Golzine’s men to one of the black cars waiting.

“Where is he?” the blond demanded, trying to keep himself calm, “you said that you will return him.”

“Let’s not rush things,” Golzine crooked his lips in a disgusting smirk, his tone admonishing, “I taught you better than to indulge in such plebian habits.”

He gritted his teeth but followed Golzine’s men into one of the cars at the dimly lighted dock. The old man must be too cowardly to be on the same one as him without precaution, he thought darkly. Shame, it was one of the plans he had concocted up in his head, to finish everything quickly so they had no time to prepare for his impromptu strike—though he also didn’t count on Eiji not being there for the barter. To his surprise, Blanca stayed behind, and he watched as the professional assassin and Yut-Lung’s seething figure grew smaller into a dot before disappearing out of sight.

He was taken to another one of Golzine’s mansions, smaller, since Ash—though he suspected Yut-Lung played a bigger part—burnt his main estate to the ground along with Shorter’s body. He played his cards carefully, he stayed quiet and obedient when Golzine instructed his men to put him in a small room—a grim line set on his lips. His hands weren’t bound, and he was free to roam but he knew better. They had checked his body, every nook and cranny, every little _crevice_ for anything that he could have possibly hide until at the end of it he felt more violated than if they were assaulting him directly.

He looked around the sparse room for anything remotely interesting that caught his attention, but it really was just a simple, inconspicuous bedroom with empty drawers and a small bed—but oddly no cameras. He peered down the barred window and scoffed. _As if I would escape when Eiji is still in their hands_ , he thought.

Now it was a waiting game.

Of course, his mind was filled with nothing but Eiji. What if they had done something to him even though Ash had made Golzine promise they won’t lay a finger on him? Golzine was one thing, his men were another. They might have assaulted him when Golzine wasn’t around. They won’t kill the Japanese, he knew for sure, because he would hunt every single last one of them and kill them in the most painful way imaginable.

...but what if they did?

Ash found that it wasn’t fury that consumed him at the thought.

It was emptiness. Hollow.

He realized that there was no world without Eiji. No point in living without Eiji.

The epiphany scared him more than his fate in the clutches of Golzine’s hands. He would rather _die_ than—

“I see you have made yourself comfortable.” Golzine’s voice entered his ears but it was the shout of his name that made him turn to the opened door.

“Ash!”

His eyes were wide, full of concern and worry over the blond’s wellbeing. His hands were free but the arch on his back told Ash that there was a gun pressing against his spine. He still had his clothes in one piece, not a single hair ruffled on top of his head. He was okay.

“Eiji,” Ash breathed, his shoulders sagging as he felt relief coursing through him. He moved to get closer but Eiji’s pained moan stopped him in his tracks. A warning. ‘Don’t get closer’, it said, as the man behind Eiji tightened his grip on one of the older boy’s shoulders.

“Let him go,” Ash turned to face Golzine, “you got what you want.”

The perverted old man only raised his head in arrogance. “But darling boy,” he said in a fake saccharine tone, “the fun has just begun.”

Only then Ash realized the game. _So that’s how it is_ , he thought. That was why he was brought to a room to ‘wait’, why the room had no cameras. It was one of Golzine’s favorite games, after all. To humiliate him in front of others as a punishment when he stepped out of line. To lay him bare and vulnerable as filthy men watched. He had grown out of the feeling of shame long ago.

_But this was different._

This was Eiji.

Golzine wished to break Ash to pieces right in front of the only person he never wished to see it happen.

 _“I don’t want you to see me like this!”_ He remembered saying so once, when he brutally fought and killed Arthur, blood spattering everywhere, the gaze of the public on his bloodied figure. But Eiji was never repulsed, nor did he ever look fearful. If there was anything that Eiji ever expressed most clearly, it was that he was always worried about Ash, uncaring of the blood drenching the younger’s hands. He cared for Ash in a way that he didn’t deserve. As Shorter did.

Looked where that got him.

His sick mind wondered if Eiji would still have the same worry in his eyes once he saw Ash in the way he was trained to be. Would he be disgusted then? With Ash’s wantonness? With the way Golzine would utterly wreck Ash the way he knew, right in front of Eiji?

Would the pervert force Ash to make a show out of himself? Would he make Ash _seduce_ the naïve Japanese and watch as he shattered his soul when—

...would Eiji grow to lust his body too?

The repulsive thoughts filled his head and he grew delirious with all the worst scenarios his overactive mind could think of, the way that a simple longing look in Eiji’s eyes would make Ash devoid of everything as he watched his hope, his light, his _sun_ was taken over by darkness. Eiji was human too, after all. He would watch as Eiji grew into his dark desires and Golzine mocking them both, and Ash would rather _die_ than have the bald bastard lay his hands on Eiji so he knew he would have to comply with every single command given to him.

Golzine would break Ash’s mind, body and soul and whatever semblance of respect and love Eiji had for him. By violating Ash in front of Eiji.

“I see you have caught on, boy.”

“...Ash?” Eiji’s voice was filled with worry but Ash’s bottle-green eyes avoided him.

The Corsican Mafia boss approached the defeated blond and touched him with his filthy hands, but Ash remained unmoved, despite the stinging in his eyes. Utterly destroyed by his own mind on what was about to happen.

“Don’t touch him!” he heard Eiji’s voice came out in a harsh warning. No use.

“Do you have to be so cruel?” His voice wavered, but he stayed still, his eyes unable to seek Eiji’s in fear of finding something he didn’t want to see.

“I told you I would make you the lowest of my prostitutes, don’t I? Accept your punishment like a man.” The growl pressed against his ear was repulsive and he struggled to keep his breathing in check.

“Please,” he whispered brokenly, “anything but this.”

“You would love to show your little cat here what you can do, wouldn’t you?” Golzine said loudly, making sure the implication behind his words were loud and clear to even Eiji’s innocent mind.

“No!” the Japanese screamed, promptly struggling against the larger man that held him in place, his feet kicking about to no avail, adrenaline rushing, “don’t touch him! You’ve hurt him enough! You’ve broken him enough! Please!” He begged; tears tumbled out of his eyes.

“Please,” Eiji said weakly, his voice cracked and he hesitated until he could only let out a soft whisper, “just... just use me instead.”

But Golzine heard. And he laughed aloud, he laughed like he just heard the funniest joke from the best comedian, he laughed like a cruel bully that kicked a weaker child for fun. He laughed until Ash saw Eiji looking down in what looked like unimaginable shame. _It was foolish of him_ , Ash thought dazedly, Golzine would never choose anyone over him, let alone someone like Eiji.

“How arrogant of you, _boy_ ,” Golzine said mockingly at the pitiful Japanese, “as if you could hold a candle to what my lynx could give me.”

Ash’s lips trembled but he stifled down his own tears, Golzine’s words were painful and filthy, but relief surged through him because that meant at least Eiji wouldn't be used like he did, because at least he was beautiful enough to make Dino desire him and let Eiji untouched, though the realization was bitter on his tongue. _Nothing but a pretty whore_. He swallowed his disgust as he often did when the older man’s lips pressed against his own, uncaring of the company they were having. That was the idea after all. _So it has started_.

Out on the corner of his glossy eyes, Ash saw that Eiji’s head was still downturned, silent and still, as if unable to look at what Golzine was doing to Ash. Repulsed, his fevered mind supplied, and his heart sank.

But when Eiji looked up it was like a gilded cage had been opened, a camouflage unveiled after years and years of being hidden.

“ _Dino_ _Golzine_.”

The voice that called his name made the old man pause. It was familiar, yet somehow different. No hint of accent in the usually slow and awkward speech. A lilting quality at the end, innocent yet sweet as nectar, inviting. It made Ash look at the Japanese youth who was standing still against the larger man behind him.

There was something off about Eiji.

Golzine and his men never looked at the Japanese in any fashion of interest during his previous captivity, his sole purpose there to simply hurt Ash. He was youthful with his athletic, lean body—but he always came off as plain, with his plain clothes and plain look and plain _everything_. Several people had been caught saying that out of the boy’s earshot, and as adoring as Ash was towards the boy, he couldn’t help but agree.

Eiji was endearing, perhaps, but not in a way that would attract unnecessary attention. His soft demeanor or the way he would act around anyone at all in his friendly way, making people feel comfortable in his presence, as Ash did. But no one would glance at him on the streets, Ash’s presence beside him already drawing most of the attention away.

Shorter once had said something, though he was only half-listening when they were on their way to Cape Cod almost a year ago. About the way Eiji dressed himself, how he was drawing a lot of attention in Chinatown. Ash dismissed it as him being a literal foreigner in the area, the gangs sizing up on the lone cat for threats. Shorter seemed to think otherwise but relented after admitting that Eiji's usual demeanor never changed. Awkward and endearing, yet still... plain. Like Eiji. Because what had drawn Ash to Eiji was exactly that—he was ordinary, unlike everyone else in his world.

As if he dressed and acted the way he did to blend in with the crowd, not letting anyone think of him as more—not even Ash.

But not at that moment.

He still looked as he was moments ago; his long-sleeved pink shirt was slightly disheveled and untucked, with his rolled-up jeans with his dark loafers. There was nothing unusual in his looks, nothing different in the canvas of his face. Nothing, yet...

Ash couldn’t help but notice things that he never noticed before—never bothered to.

Was his face always so lovely, small and endearing with his button nose, youthful in the way they were molded, but enchanting without the childishness showing through? Were his lips always so pink, shapely with their cupid’s bow and plush with the natural pout they possessed? He always knew the older boy had large eyes, but were they always so beautiful? Were they always glimmering the way they were then, as if galaxies were created within the depth of those onyx orbs?

And there was also something different from his demeanor. Something inexplicable in the way he stood, his posture relaxed, and his back curved the way Ash was extremely familiar with, something he had used countless times before. In the softness of his face and the simmering heat of his unerringly calm gaze as he looked at Golzine in the eye, a silent beckoning. The desperation and horror wiped from his face, leaving behind an expression Ash never thought Eiji could make, despite the red rimming his puffy eyes, though it only added to what made him _not_ Ash’s Eiji. Captivating.

Beguiling.

In a split second, innocent Eiji had turned into something that was not of sunlight and warmth. But something that could have belonged in Ash’s world.

As if the Eiji he knew was the one he had seen with one eye closed and the other damaged. As if it was the first time he ever looked at the boy properly.

_The first time Eiji allowed it to happen._

The aura in the room changed, and before Ash knew it, Golzine had made his way back to Eiji. He stood there, disquieted, his mind unable to process what had just occurred. Unable to accept what he witnessed from his dearest friend as reality, just another one of his bizarre nightmares.

“Interesting,” the mafia boss mused, taking Eiji’s chin with his thick fingers. The way Eiji tilted his face and craned his slender neck was _different_ , so was the way he inclined his head softly as the old man’s hand traveled down his neck, the way he blinked so his long lashes brushed against his cheeks before glimmering brown doe eyes pierced into Golzine’s own.

Enchanting.

Ash wanted to speak. He wanted to protest, wanted to rip Golzine’s foul hand that dared to touch Eiji in such a lecherous manner, the way he had been touching Ash moments ago. Eiji wasn’t made that way, he thought hysterically. Eiji wasn’t made to be sullied in the hands of filthy bastards like Golzine and his goons. That was Ash. That was always Ash.

Not sweet Eiji. Not innocent Eiji. _Never_.

“I change my mind,” the mafia boss whispered, and Ash thought his ears were stabbed and stuffed with cotton.

“Take him to my room. Prepare him.” And Eiji was dragged away just like that, no words of protest coming from the Japanese youth, nothing that would be said if he was still the same Eiji that Ash knew.

“It seems that he is not a simple Japanese bobtail, after all,” the old mafia said with barely contained giddiness as he reveled in Ash’s shellshocked form, “I suppose there are things that he kept even from you.”

Those words stabbed into the weakest point of his heart and he let out a shuddering breath, unable to respond properly. The past few minutes like a surreal nightmare. He was half-tempted to pinch his arm, to wake up and see Eiji, _his_ Eiji. Not the...

Not the _siren_ that was walking away, capturing Golzine’s ravenous eyes even as he disappeared from sight.

_What are you doing, Eiji?_

_What are you hiding?_ _  
  
_

* * *

_  
_Camouflage  
_/ˈkæm.ə.flɑːʒ/_

 _noun  
_ something that is meant to hide something, or behavior that is intended to hide the truth.  
  


* * *

\- to be continued - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think of this first chapter? This is an experimental project and my first time writing for Banana Fish but I'm sorta hoping to make it a long multi-chaptered one (even though I'm drowning in WIPs from another fandom as it is lol). 
> 
> I really love Ash and Eiji but I feel like Eiji got this latent potential to be something more than a glorified yet justifiably adored and beloved (gosh I love my cute baby) sidekick. Or supporting main character-slash-deuteragonist if you wanna get technical, but you get the idea.
> 
> ...and I got a thing for angst and dark themes with a side of fluff so... enjoy the ride? xd


	2. Witchery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank all the sweet and amazing response this story had gotten so far, and it was only the first chapter! I gotta admit, bit nervous that I can't live up to your expectations xD
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Warning: very vague descriptions of dub-con. Hint: Golzine.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have done it. Perhaps he shouldn’t have intervened, shouldn’t be so reckless. Perhaps he should have let things happened the way they were meant to be, the way they had always been before—even if it meant that it would tear apart at his conscience.

Whatever was left of it, in any case.

But the look in the other’s eyes. Fear, and unmistakably _terror_ that roared behind seafoam orbs when the mafia boss made his intention clear. He wasn’t dull enough to not understand what they signified. It wasn’t fear for what was about to come, what the old bastard was about to do, as he had done numerous times before to the younger teen.

It was deeper, twisted, and molded within an over-imaginative delirium. A psychological hell that a much too brilliant mind produced, from the numerous torture it had endured for years on end, sharpened until it became a double-sided blade. The mafia boss might not even understand the consequences of what he was about to do, he didn’t understand the boy enough— _unlike me_. Because for him, he knew what the boy was thinking, knew what the younger teen feared if it continued.

_He feared that I would grow to lust for him and destroy our friendship, and he would never forgive himself for something that wasn’t nearly his fault._

Laughable, he would think in the past, something as innocent and pure as their friendship was always doomed since the beginning. Never meant to survive in their world. A frail blossom amidst the storm.

But he found himself clinging to it, vehemently fighting against whatever forces sought to destroy their little yellow flower. Because before he realized it, his friendship with the younger teen had taken over his life, his heart, and his soul. His affections ruled over his past, and his sense of protectiveness surged forward tantamount to the looming waves of a tsunami.

He found himself coming to an epiphany.

_I will do anything to keep him from harm._

“Just... just use me instead,” so he said in a broken whisper, tears flowing down his cheeks in rivulets. The laughter was expected, so was the mocking insults, it pained him nonetheless. The degradation belying simple words uttered with such sharp disdain. He had hoped that it would do the trick, would keep the old pervert from tainting his dear friend’s psyche by destroying whatever fragile threads of the tender relationship that existed between the two of them.

It didn’t.

His use of vulnerability and fright didn’t appeal to the old man as much as it did with most other people. People who rejoiced in the smell of his fear, in his tears and struggles as they took him by force.

No, Dino Golzine was used to something of a higher constitution. He savored confidence and elegance, unsurmountable intellect accompanied by the irresistible allure of his toys.

In hindsight, he saw that it was a good thing. He realized it would hurt his friend more if he stayed as he was. His persona was still that of the person his friend trusted the most, after all. It wouldn’t do to have such trust welling inside him, such a pure bond between them for his plan to work. Foolish, to be so reckless. If his harebrained plan had worked, the outcome would be just the same, or even worse.

So he would need to cut it through, to plant a seed of doubt in their relationship; suspicion without the need of destructive betrayal as its end. To ease the young boy from the pain. It would hurt his friend still, knowing that he was not as honest and naïve as he thought, that he had been doing little else but pretending to be something that he was not.

But at the very least, it would hurt him _less._

He cleared his head from all distracting and unnecessary information he had been feeding his brain for years on end—he once found himself lost in the sea of characters and identities he played, similar faces of different people staring back at him in crystal clear familiarity as he struggled to find his true persona.

Sometimes he resurfaced—in his smile, in his laughter, in his eyes when he looked at his dearest sunshine—but never stayed. Never persisted, sinking back to the depth and replaced by a replica that was molded in his image, but never quite right. Never quite as vibrant. A façade he used throughout his time since he came to New York. A protective shell in the form of a plain, artless boy too naive for the underworld, a face amongst faces in the unassuming lives of the majority. 

But that façade was obsolete now, useless. So another showed up, smiling coyly, molded in his likeness yet dark and hazy around the edges, in the way that enticed the desires of the flesh amongst others. It had only been over a year since he last used this, but it felt like forever. He wished to never resort to it again, but he understood that would only hold true in his death—it was too useful, too easy to lure men and women alike to do what he bid. He took a deep, silent breath and look up.

 _Anything for Ash_.

_“Dino Golzine.”_

What he feared then wasn’t what was about to happen to him. Never. But the shock and betrayal in his sunshine’s eyes would be the end of him. So he didn’t stray from his target, his midnight orbs hooking into the mafia’s dull ones, latching and then _pulling in_. The calm allure belying fear of estrangement from the blond standing stock still, something he had experienced over and over again, the more he formed new connections with people that didn’t belong in his side of the dark.

He didn’t lose his steps as he was led away, knowing the old man was watching his every move with the same predatory gaze he threw at the other boy—the same gaze thrown at him numerous times before; before New York, before Ash. he threw in a swing in his hips just for the devil of it. If nothing else, it cemented the suspicion in his friend’s brilliant mind—and he was counting on that. He needed Ash to grow wary of him. At least for the time being, to numb him from what he would witness of Eiji later.

The end of their relationship would cut him deeper than it would his friend, but it was the least he could do. The time he spent with Ash had been magical, and if there was anything he could do to free his friend from his cage, he would do it.  


* * *

He was led to a room about four times as large as the previous one, with a door to the left that he suspected would lead to an ensuite, while another to a walk-in closet that was left ajar. The luxuries befitting for a corrupt king such as his captor.

“Strip,” the man said after he closed the door behind him. His eyes latched on the mafia’s clinical gaze, and he remembered the man’s presence throughout his previous encounters with Golzine.

Gregory, he overheard Ash talking to his gang once. Dino’s personal guard. Took a near-fatal bullet to his ribs in an assassination attempt several years ago. Very loyal.

He tucked the information away for later use, and slowly undressed before his audience. He unbuttoned his shirt leisurely, slipping the thin material from his shoulders and they glide down his skin and dropped softly to the ground. His belt, then his loose jeans came off next, a deft hand plucking a small piece of _something_ from one of the pocket out of Gregory’s sight—though it wasn’t as if the man wasn’t distracted as he currently was—and gripped it loosely with one finger under his palm.

His eyes never left the current man in charge until he was bare for him to see and admire, stripped from everything, even his shoes. He would not fool himself, he knew he was fit; lean, and lithe in the way that was never too masculine, small enough to give the illusion of power to his usually male ‘client’, but enough meat in his bones to show that he was not easily breakable.

And how these people _love_ to break things.

He caught Gregory spending a second too long in appraising his body, but he kept the amusement to himself. He let the illusion of dominance set, and the man led him by the arm to the large closet filled with Golzine’s expensive taste—knowing that how the man’s large hand completely engulfed his forearm wasn’t lost to the man’s ever-increasing arousal, nor was how he stopped a little too close to the man, his _naked_ body almost flushed against the man’s expensive suit, how the touch _lingered_.

All the insignificant little things that could drive any man insane. All the lessons and experience he had for much too long. A simple change in demeanor that could make those who hadn’t spared him a glance to ogling shamelessly at the same body they had witnessed before.

Simple-minded fools.

“This was meant to be for Ash,” Gregory said in his gruff tone as he shuffled through the lavish garments, his eyes unable to help themselves as they lingered on the Japanese’s naked form for who knew how many times in the span of a minute, scrutinizing every little curve and dip of his body, the smooth, flawless skin likened to the ripest peaches ready to be savored. He gulped, and the beautiful youth was nothing but observant as he gave him a coy little smile. 

The mafia hurriedly plucked a piece of clothing from one of the many on display, a lace robe in the color of blood. _Befitting_ , Eiji thought as he received the article with both hands.

The suited man watched him as he shrugged on the lacy robe, the soft material kissing his arms on their deliberate slow trail up until they rested on his shoulders. The robe fell like a waterfall across the long line of his body, the lace patterns were fine enough to accentuate the curve of his shoulders, and sheer enough that under certain lighting, the color of his skin showed through. It fell down to his ankles, though he suspected it would be higher on Ash’s height. He was glad he wouldn’t be finding that out.

He was dragged along once again after barely tying the silken belt around his waist, this time towards the bed. It was as big as the one in Dino’s previous mansion and as obscene to look at, knowing the horrible activities that took place upon those sheets, or the marks around the vintage metal bedposts. Handcuffs. Ropes.

Gregory loomed over him then, as he was seated on the edge of the soft sheets. he could practically smell the tightly reined lust in the older man's eyes, in his too harsh breaths and darkening eyes. He knew what would happen next.

 _“Take him to my room._ Prepare _him.”_

His finger that clutched the small packet to his palm tightened, his bewitching gaze holding a dark, beckoning glint as he watched the larger man’s growing want glaring through his dilated eyes. The frustration that he wouldn't be able to _savor_ as Golzine would later. 

Eiji kept his mind blank, the thin garment of the robe sliding from his thighs as he spread his legs.  
  


* * *

Two guards walked behind them, another two in front. They would not spare security even in the presence of an unarmed lynx, it seemed.

But there was no time to be amused. His mind replayed the scene over and over again in his head, still unable to wrap itself around what happened. Dread followed him and chased him closer and closer the more they neared Golzine’s room. The old man’s presence next to him was nothing close to calming, his lust and greedy anticipation exuded from his foul body in droves. And for the first time, it wasn’t _him_ that was the object of such revolting greed.

It was Eiji.

He swallowed down his saliva for the many times it had been since they left the small room, his throat turning parched and raw from the repeated action.

What would he find in there?

 _Eiji what the hell are you doing?_ he found himself asking again in frustration, the question repeated in his mind over and over again, various scenarios and speculations floated around but he couldn’t grasp every single last one of them. He didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to accept that Eiji wasn’t as innocent as he thought he was. That Eiji had been acting.

That Eiji had been lying to Ash.

He wished to the heavens he didn’t believe anymore that the walk to Golzine’s room be stretched for eternity, for he wasn’t ready to see the reality with his own eyes. But time waits for no man. And in the split second he thought of the ridiculous notion, the door to the dreaded room came to view.

Gregory was already waiting outside. His expression was impassive, but his skin was somewhat flushed, and his gaze blank as if in distraction. Ash’s heart stuttered, fear creeping up at what had happened inside to make the man so bothered, what he had done to Eiji. What was done to him _by_ Eiji.

His friend, who seemed to keep gargantuan secrets from Ash. Maybe it was karma for always leaving him behind, always doing things behind Eiji's back, even though it was all ultimately for both their sake. To take down Dino. 

Ironic. 

“Monsieur,” the younger mafia turned to the two when he noticed the small procession, “he is ready.” There was a sickening, perverse breath that the man took, and the twitch in his hands that he kept in front of him, conveniently by his crotch, in the pretense of politeness. Ash applaud himself from not snorting at what he knew was hidden behind those clasped hands.

Dino’s eyes were searching, piercing into Gregory’s in mild amusement—no doubt sharing the same dark sentiment Ash had—and he nodded his head, urging the man to open the door. Ash held his breath, kept his eyes wide open.

He found that he didn’t need to even try.

There was nothing in the world that could distract him from the shock of crimson standing beside the king-sized bed.

The fraction of the second it took for the creature enveloped in silken lace to turn and face them stretched for hours in Ash’s head. Covered back that seemed almost bare against the sheerness of the material, delicate neckline twisting elegantly along with the rest of the slender body as the person turned to face the newcomers.

Those same, glimmering eyes that refused to look at Ash. Even Golzine’s awed exhale didn’t compute.

It wasn’t Eiji.

Not the Eiji he knew.

Golzine approached the _stranger_ with the slow steps of a predator, Ash’s own person being pressed forward by the boss’ personal guard. He was pushed down to the bed forcefully, his hands stretched up above his head and cuffed to one of the posts.

So he would be made to watch, up close and personal as Dino played with his new toy.

 _The Eiji look-alike_ , he thought grimly as he watched the old pervert sized up the Japanese like an exotic pet, and by some definitions, he might be one. He didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t deny what he saw. Couldn’t think of any possible explanation as to why Eiji was doing what he was doing, and _how_ he was able to do so, _how_ he was able to change his personality and demeanor so starkly that they were in the situation they were in now.

Nothing except that he had been deceiving Ash all along. And it hurt. Of course it hurt. The very notion that Eiji could lie to him hurt. 

It hurt as the Japanese leaned against Golzine’s filthy hand on his small face, as his long lashes fluttered every time he blinked. It hurt as he pushed the filthy bastard down to the bed, stripped to his revolting naked form and coddled and touched by the once-thought-as innocent teen barely older than himself.

“So beautiful,” he could hear Dino’s filthy, whispered voice chanting over and over again as he claimed his ownership over Eiji, with his greedy hands, and with his devouring mouth all over the Japanese’s neck; ruining, staining, and _hurting_ with too harsh bites, blood beading up his wounds but he remained calm and _how could he be so calm, he wasn’t supposed to be so used to such things, so used to being_ used _—_

“Stop it,” he breathed out with an uncontrollable shudder before he could stop himself, tears streaming out of his eyes and Dino _heard_ him and he _looked_ at him and—

And Eiji touched the filthy bastard’s cheek, turning his face softly to focus on the Japanese instead and he _kissed him_ , and the mafia boss _melted_.

But Ash... For a split second, a fraction of a moment, he could see with utmost clarity.

He could see the panic behind Eiji’s eyes when Dino turned to face Ash. And immeasurable relief coursed through him because it was his _Eiji_ and it was _Eiji’s eyes_ and it was _Eiji worrying over him like he always did_. It was Eiji who feared that Dino would do something to Ash also and decided the burden should fall on him entirely.

But Eiji, nonetheless. Not some actor, not some fraud who had been lying and deceiving Ash the entire time they were together.

And it was still painful as he watched Dino violated him, painful to the point that he didn’t want to look, didn’t _dare_ to look. But now, somehow his head wasn’t filled with as much delirium and paranoia. Now he knew Eiji was not a _foe_ and he was still on Ash’s side. One less thing to worry about in the millions of things he had on his plate.

It would have to do, for now.

Emotional grievances temporarily pushed aside, he awed at how relaxed the Japanese was, with the way Eiji would dominate the pace and the progression of the repulsive activity as if he _owned_ Golzine, with the way that a single move, an innocent _touch_ could reduce the arrogant bastard to a bumbling mess, flopping on his own bed like a fish.

And he awed with how easy the bastard fell to exhaustion not long after they finished a single completion, knowing by long-term experience that Dino could go on for several rounds until he was sated while his toy was left bleeding and bruised.

Eiji looked at him through the corner of his eyes for the first time that night, and he smiled. He smiled as if he wasn’t still straddling the disgusting body of Dino Golzine, as if he didn’t just have sex with the pedophilic trash right in front of Ash’s bound form. 

He smiled _Eiji’s smile_. The one that always made him want to cry, the one with an edge of sad melancholy. The one that always left Ash wondering what he could possibly be thinking when he smiled in such a sad way as if he was looking at something Ash couldn’t see, listening to a sad piece of music Ash couldn’t hear.

Eiji touched his own neck, the bruised, bloodied part where Golzine claimed his mark.

“It’s a sleeping drug,” he said softly, tapping at a particular part of the marred skin, “not over the counter one, of course. Tasteless and undetectable.” He showed his hand to a dumbfounded Ash, a small packet of fine white powder trapped underneath one of his fingers.

“I used it after Gregory went out.”

Why was he talking as if he was discussing the weather? As if it was so trivial?

If it was anyone else, Ash would be impressed at the sleight of hand, the tricks, the allure he used to his own advantage, like what he would have done. But he couldn’t let go of the fact that it was still Eiji. Eiji who managed to seduce Dino, managed to string Gregory along to distractions with his charm, who easily took power over the Corsican boss without the old man noticing nor caring. Who drugged Golzine as easily as giving candy to an unsuspecting child.

“...why?” he found himself asking. There was nothing he could say, nothing to form from the chaos in his mind. The tone was harsh, and he found himself latching to anger, as he sometimes did, especially when it came to Eiji. Eiji’s safety. Eiji’s happiness.

Eiji’s innocence.

But Eiji wasn’t. Eiji knew better, better than most—perhaps even him. Eiji wasn’t vulnerable and weak as he used to think, despite his clear affection for the Japanese. Eiji understood these things, and Ash couldn’t deny that Eiji had _experienced_ these things before, like Ash did.

So when the Japanese tried to answer, tried to deflect with a weak, “I don’t want him to turn to you—”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Ash knew that Eiji understood perfectly what he meant.

“I’m sorry.”

But of course he wouldn’t tell Ash, _couldn’t_. And the look in his green eyes told Eiji that their friendship would never be the same. Not as pure as it was before, a flower amidst their chaotic world. But he hoped that it would survive, that the frail blossom could withstand the stormy weather, and bloom once everything calmed. He likened it to the dandelions, weed they might be to most, but strong and relentless, weathering the harshest storms and thrived even in hellish conditions.

 _Survived_.

He wanted to believe that such hopes weren’t foolish.  
  


* * *

The two of them didn’t sleep that night. Ash steering as far away from Golzine with his bound wrists as possible, the skin already sore and his bones ached from hours upon hours in such unnatural position—nothing he couldn’t handle. Eiji, after the silence that stretched in their previous interaction, understanding that Ash wasn’t ready to accept the changes yet, slept courageously close to Golzine’s side on the opposite side of the large bed.

The mafia boss didn’t suspect a thing come morning, too distracted by Eiji’s soft touches upon his old, thinning skin to be reminded of his short ‘performance’ the previous night.

“You are a true wonder,” he awed adoringly, “why have you been hiding, little bird?”

Eiji would give him a mystifying smile. “A secret,” he whispered to the man’s ear and left him bewitched with no sense of coherence or logic.

Ash wondered if it was a side-effect from the drug that had the usually heartless, cruel mafia reduced to such an obedient _dog_. Wondered if the existence of magic was real, because there could possibly no other explanation to the near-hypnotized state Dino was in at that moment. Wondered if a miracle was happening right before his very eyes, because he had never witnessed such a morbid scene where the old pervert worshipped someone so genuinely, as if in the presence of a god.

And if it was any other situation, Ash might believe it so. The way the sunlight from the open curtains enveloped Eiji was almost too ethereal, and his silken lace robe like the red sun enrobing his figure. His midnight hair flaming under the warm light, and his galaxy orbs rested upon Golzine’s unworthy existence as he worshipped his god’s feet. Ash curled his lips in distaste.

A knock on the door disrupted the bizarre scene and he almost sighed in relief at Gregory’s timely interruption. He never failed to check up on Dino every morning at—8 AM, sharp—and to announce that breakfast was served.

With great effort, and Ash was almost surprised that he could help himself, Golzine peeled away from Eiji and put on his robes. He told Gregory to come in and attend to Ash, as if only reminded that his ‘protégé’ was there when he glanced at the glaring and bound blond.

“It’s a shame that I didn’t get to play with you, Ash,” the bastard said with a smirk that made Ash wanted to hurl, “but we will have our time.”

It was a smart move to separate Ash from Eiji, but he didn’t expect to be escorted out of the room, the last thing he saw was Eiji’s languid form being urged towards the direction of the ensuite by Dino.

“Eiji—!” he shouted but the door was closed in his face before he could even finish. He gave a withering glare at Gregory who didn’t even care to spare him a glance as he tugged the cuffed blond away. “Let me go.”

“You have been replaced, Ash Lynx,” the guard said coldly, “Monsieur had finally taken hold of a treasure far more precious than you. You will have to comply if you ever want to see your friend again.”

“You think I’m _devastated_ for being replaced as his fucktoy?” Ash snarled, a vicious grin erupting from his pale lips, “Dino just made himself an even greater target for taking Eiji away.”

Empty threats, he knew. There was nothing he could do, and nothing he would do that could threaten Eiji’s safety. And as much as he hated to admit it, Dino had himself the best bargaining chip he could possibly have against Ash, though he doubted the enraptured bastard would dare to even think of letting Eiji go. It was bizarre that even Gregory would make such a bold claim, after only some short moments left with the Japanese. The thought was hard on his mind, but he forced himself to focus on his current situation and not distract himself further.

Gregory said nothing, but the smug smirk made Ash wished he could kick the man’s face without having a dozen armed guards after him.  
  


* * *

He wouldn’t admit it, not in a million years, but it felt good to not be the center of Dino Golzine’s attention. Of course, the understanding that Eiji took that place turned the feeling sour. He was given half an hour to freshen up in one of the guest bathrooms, given clothes too fancy for his liking but just according to Golzine’s ostentatious taste, and ushered away to a large patio overlooking an equally extravagant pool where Golzine and Eiji were already waiting.

Waiting might be a bad choice of words because the old bastard was too preoccupied with ogling and harassing over Eiji’s pretty form to notice him coming. At least Dino wasn’t much of a fool enough since he left Gregory in charge of Ash instead of any of his lower henchmen. Still, foolish enough to fall for Eiji’s seductions without raising much alarm over the sudden change of persona. Perhaps he and his men still underestimated the Japanese.

Or perhaps Eiji simply made them think so, what with his harmless disposition and too large eyes screaming innocence despite the fact. Made them weak and vulnerable in front of him.

Bewitched.

The Japanese who had his back turned away from Ash’s approaching figure seemed to notice him first, as he reclined his neck and smiled, making Dino follow his line of vision. He curled his lips in distaste, noticing the clothing Dino had made Eiji wear.

A kimono. Or at least what Ash suspected as one. Pale blue, loose-fitting, and nearly hanging off his shoulders. Sash wrapped around his waist and tied into a ribbon down his front. The finest silk with the most intricate patterns of flowers and white rabbits, thin, almost sheer against the wearer’s slender form. Must be from one of Dino’s fetish for when he was in the mood for the ‘Orient’.

The thought sickened him more than he liked, to see someone being the object of the pedophile’s vile whims, let alone Eiji.

Eiji. Eiji. Eiji.

He found his head filled with nothing but Eiji these days. He wondered if his gang was ever annoyed with his constant worry over the Japanese. If Alex, Kong or Bones ever wanted to scream at him for it. He couldn’t count the times he spoke of Eiji’s name amidst the most random conversation.

The thought of his dear Eiji distracted him from the hell that was his life, the thought of Eiji kept him sane whenever he was on missions with his gang or solo. What he was doing when Ash wasn’t around, what he cooked as he waited for Ash to come back, how he would eat _natto_ over and over again if only for Eiji to be _safe_ —

It didn’t help now, when the person was right in front of him, with Dino’s filthy hand caressing his thinly clothed thighs shamelessly.

He knew the old man was going to taunt him again, and he could see the lashing of that cruel tongue about to be directed at his glowering form when another one of his men approached from within the mansion in hasty steps, directing all attention to him.

“Monsieur,” the grey-suited man said in a rushed, apologetic tone, “there are some people who wished to see you.”

Golzine was not thrilled, everyone could see that as they waited with bated breath for his response. Somehow, Eiji’s calming hand on the mafia’s shoulder made Ash wanted to punch the old man in the face, even though it managed to make the tenseness in Dino’s expression to relax. Thoroughly spelled.

“Who are our guests?” Dino asked instead, his hand on Eiji’s thighs unrelenting.

“The Japanese, sir.” The man whispered into Dino's ears but Ash could hear it just fine.

He paused his steps. _The Japanese? Ibe? So, him... and possibly Max? Why? Why would they risk..._

He frowned. But the man had clearly said ‘some people.’ That meant more than one Japanese. _Eiji’s family?_ he thought in barely contained dread. Did they find out about his situation and came to beg for his release? How did they know? How did—

“What do those Yakuza want?”

A relieved sigh almost escaped Ash’s lips at Dino’s words, thinking that it might not have anything to do with his and Eiji’s situation. Though he wondered how the foreign group got tangled with Golzine’s business, because as far as he knew their factions were small and short-spreading in the US, dealing only with drugs and arms in small quantities, smugglings to and from Hawaii...

But there was an odd expression on Eiji’s face, broken through the mask of calm allure he had put on for the Corsican boss at that word.

_Yakuza._

Ash swore that Eiji was smiling.

* * *

  
Witchery  
/ˈwɪtʃ(ə)ri/

 _noun  
_ compelling power exercised by beauty, eloquence, or other attractive or fascinating qualities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to know that the whole time I was writing this my mind just begged me to finish this cursed chapter but because it’s so uncomfortable to write it took me so long typing it out without cringing every few lines with that blasted Golzine in it T^T 
> 
> Writing Ash’s surface thoughts is fun. Writing Ash’s actions and what he would do is not, because he’s a fkin genius and his actions need to reflect that in some circumstances lmao. We have Eiji keeping him at bay at the moment since he can’t do much if that risked his angel's life. But him solo? Well damn, I hoped I won’t lead myself to that hole :D


End file.
